He sla:p:ped me until I bled for asking where he was—so I prepared a silent, elegant Southern breakfast that hid a truth he never saw coming.

I made biscuits from scratch, poured coffee into a blue mug, and ate on the porch as sunlight warmed the magnolias.

No footsteps behind me.

No threats.

No blood in my mouth.

Only peace.

And it tasted better than revenge.